Possessive
by milegre
Summary: A naughty take on how the story could have ended.
1. I Belong to You

**While I certainly intersperse sensuality and the like into my writing, I've never really taken it so far as this. This is probably a one-shot, unless you _insist_ on another installment. Let me know what you think.**

**-M**

* * *

The air was chilled, biting. It caused her to shiver, and gooseflesh to raise upon her skin. Undeterred, however, Christine continued focusing intently upon the book that now lay open in her lap. She squinted, as though the gesture would simplify the complicated words before her.

"Christine," came the voice. Her heart fluttered and her breath lodged in her throat. The familiar thrill, the familiar fear.

Little chin lifted, sweet lips part to issue a reply.

"Christine," the voice demanded again, immediately quieting her voice. "You're not focusing," it chided. The source of the voice was not yet visible, and yet she quaked.

"I.." she began, the lyrical voice that he could command to perfection faltering.

He tsked, and suddenly manifest himself across from her. He reclined gracefully upon the chaise, a bemused expression within his gaze. A single hand lifted, and the enthralled girl opposite him could not help but stare at the gesture. So much power within those hands. The power to give, and to take away. The power of pain and pleasure. The hands of a genius.

He motioned toward the book.

"You do not seem interested in your lessons.." he observed, the comment laced with mockery.

His charge did not miss the tone, the warning. The silent command in his voice. Her eyes widened a bit, in alarm. A smirk lilted upon his lips, smugness captured in a single expression.

She closed the book. No interest at all drove her to focus upon the tome of scientific knowledge. She only read it for his pleasure. Christine shifted to sit up straighter, her gaze imploring as it steadied upon his face. So hidden, so difficult to read.

Little fingers tugged at the sleeve of her dressing gown. It was insufficient against the cold permeating his home. She longed to rush to her room and don as many layers as her frame would permit, but she did not. It pleased him to see her in this.

"Of course, Erik.." she replied, a reverent tone in her voice. A jumble of nerves, she intended to explain her lack of focus.

Those amber orbs that frightened and delighted her were alive tonight, sparkling with his amusement and anticipation. He stared openly at her, his gaze caressing the curve of her cheek, the bow of her lips, and lower still. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts, and the way she shifted – slender thighs rubbing together in her nervousness. Without another word he stood, and walked away.

Christine was left to stare after him. His cloak billowed about his legs, the heels of his shoes resounding upon the stone beneath. He hesitated near the mantle, dropped the cloak from his shoulders, and continued onwards. He disappeared from her gaze, and was gone less than a moment before she came alive once more. The spell broken, the blissful reverie ended. She must act.

Christine arranged the books carefully upon a side table, slipped her tiny feet into her slippers and stood. Her entire body trembled as she followed after him, approaching his door. She could hear him moving about within, and could feel his silent beckon. Little fingers lifted to caress the wood of his door.

"Erik?" She queried, a sensuous tremble.

"Yes," he replied, the meaning within his words two-fold. Her worst fears and secret delights were confirmed with his acceptance of her presence. A deep, shuddering breath gave her courage, and she stepped within. He was busily tugging at his cravat, and then his waistcoat. Shedding the layers that separated them.

Christine nudged her feet out of the recently donned slippers, plush carpet squishing between her toes as she walked deeper into this dungeon. This endless night, with no escape.

Once hers had been a world of light, of promise. She had found love, and been loved. Raoul, her precious. She had given her life for him, a simple kiss sealing her fate. Now darkness permeated every moment, the hidden threat of his displeasure creating in every moment a tension that threatened to break her.

It had been many, many months since her dreams were shattered. Perhaps it had been years. Christine could not tell, nor could she remember the exact moment when she had completely surrendered to his whim. None of this was of consequence, however. Right now she was treading across the opulent carpet, and falling to her knees at his feet.

The days had not been spent in vain, and Christine had been trained quite well. She could sense his every desire, anticipate his whim, and understand his hidden commands with as little as a glance.

Slender fingers curled about his calves. Thin, sinewy, but strong. If he found pleasure at her touch, he did not indicate it. He simply lifted his foot, allowing her to remove his shoes – one, and then the other.

Dread and revolt curled within her stomach, her grasp trembling as a plan of escape attempted to formulate within her mind. Not his realm, of course. After half a dozen attempts at that, and the punishment that inevitably followed, she had long since given up. Instead she tried to think of a way to divert his attentions, to..

His long fingers lowered, tangling within her unruly curls. A simple gesture of possessiveness.

Immediately the revolt within her mind halted. The raging within her spirit was subdued. In it's place was a familiar warmth. A heat that started low in her stomach and radiated outwards. It cased a flush to creep up along her breasts, kiss her cheeks, and left her breathless.

The beast towering over her finally glanced down, even as she arched up on her knees to tug at the waist of his pants. This afforded him more access, and his fingers drifted lower. They stroked the slender length of her neck, and brushed the fabric of her gown aside as they drifted the length of her shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered, and then closed. Her breathing quickened and the fearful tremble that had made her movements fumbling and clumsy only moments before dissipated. It had taken months before a simple touch was enough to induce such a state within her, but it had been well worth the effort.

"Good girl," he murmured, little more than a whisper. A smile tugged at her lips, eyes still closed.

Within moments she had effectively and obediently disrobed him. Her lips were at his thighs, the inside of his knees, the curve of his pelvis. He permitted it for several moments, and then lowered himself to the carpeting with her. His lips sought hers. Ravaging, raping, painful. He took what he desired, leaving her lips swollen – bleeding.

Christine only moaned, whimpered. Gasped. Gripped tightly at his shoulders, nails biting into the already scarred flesh. The onslaught continued, as it always did until he consumed her. His teeth tore at the flesh of her throat, alternating between gentle nips and harsh suckles. Her flesh purpled beneath his affections.

Erik leaned away, tipping her chin upward that the light from the fire may illuminate her features. She was breathing heavily, trembling. Those deep brown eyes were closed to him.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice husky with desire. The girl obeyed him.

"Such a wanton little thing, aren't you..." he muttered as his thumb traced the length of her bottom lip. She should have been embarrassed. Humiliated by the fickleness of her disposition, by the ease with which he could ignite her. Instead she only lowered her gaze, pink tongue darting out to tease at his thumb.

"Christine," he growled, pulling his thumb away.

"W-what.." she panted, thoughts fuzzy.

Erik simply chuckled, a dark sound that caused his pet to shiver. He continued his exploration of her body, fingers stroking the moist length of her inner-thighs while his lips traced the length of her clavicle. He nuzzled the valley between her breasts, and captured a dusty nipple within his mouth. His girl cried out, fingers curling desperately within his hairpiece. In way of warning, he bit at the bud between his teeth and she gasped. Those sweet little hands instantly diverted, clutching at his shoulders again.

She was his to possess, to taste, to own. He relished each sigh, each moan, every little whimper of pleasure he wrenched from her exquisite body. He tasted of her, touching her, pinching and tugging. He played her body like a fine instrument, and she writhed beneath him.

His lips sought her core, tongue taunting and tasting her salty nectar. Christine cried out, pleading with him. Begging for release, for his favor. Only when her voice was hoarse with her cries, and she nearly wept, did he plunge his length deep within her. Again and again she was impaled, his forceful claiming causing her to cry out in pain and pleasure. The exquisite havoc he wreaked upon her body seemed never-ending, a tight coil that wound itself within her.

Difficult to breathe, nearly impossible to speak, she tried to beg of him.

"Please...please..."

"What?" He all but barked, his voice harsh with the brusque of his own pleasures. His hair had fallen into his face, the mask was slightly askance. His fingers gripped roughly at her hips, bruising the supple flesh.

"I need... "

"Tell me," he demanded.

"Release, please... Erik.. oh, Erik!"

"Who do you belong to?" He demanded, intentionally slowing his hips as they rocked against her.

The beautiful features upon her face contorted, the cumulation of pleasure within her reach yet denied.

"Oh, Erik.." she moaned nearly incoherently.

"**Say it!"** he demanded, bringing his hand against her thigh in a stinging blow. A hiss was released between her teeth.

"You, Erik. I belong to you. I am yours. Yours! Yours!"

Erik grunted in reply, and began again with his furious pace.

"Oh, oh, oh..." his sweet little Christine whimpered beneath him, delirious in her pleasure. He could feel her release approaching.

"You belong to me," he hissed into her ear.

"I belong to you," she replied naturally, this lover's dance rehearsed. Trained.

Climax finally released Christine, and she arched against him, slender legs wrapped tightly about his waist. Her head tossed back, and she gasped as the waves of pleasure washed over her.

The sweet milking of her muscles brought Erik to his end as well, and he exploded within her, bathing her womb in his hot seed.

For several moments they lay in that very position, panting, clinging.

Finally he rolled away from her to lay on his back as well. In an hour the haze would be gone. His sensual little kitten would revert to the shy, reserved, and trembling waif that haunted his home each day. For now though, he lifted his arm and she curled into him without hesitation. Her flesh was bruised, blood trickled in places, and she could still scarcely breathe. For all of that, though, she all but purred as she nuzzled against his throat and peppered him with little kisses.

Perhaps it would take more time, but eventually Erik would possess this affections _all_ of the time.


	2. Lessons

**Thank you so much for all of the reviews this received. Sometimes it's enjoyable just to write something without worrying about the effect on the plot, character development, etc. Just a complete creative blurb from the brain. At any rate, this will not develop into an all-out story but I'll probably post occasionally with interaction between this Erik/Christine. Just because I think they're hot. Hah!**

**At any rate, let me know what you think!**

**-M**

* * *

Routine could be a wonderful, comforting thing. It could provide security where there was none, calmness in the midst of turmoil. Surrounded by fierce loneliness, routine could pose as an anchor to sanity.

To disturb that routine could cause the entire foundation to crumble.

Such was the case with Christine in the weeks following her last encounter with Erik.

Everything continued as it normally had. Her meals were prepared as scheduled, they still had designated times to read and study, and she would sing for him. She never realized how empty those actions were without the extra attention he paid to her. The silent beckoning with a gaze or a smirk. The stares, the light touches. All of these things served to flesh out her existence to more than bare bones. The very things she had despised were the most important.

Now they were gone.

Erik had treated her with the same familiarity he might treat his pajamas or a pet kitten. He fed her, of course, and provided for her basic needs. Other than that he scarcely cast her a glance, and nearly a month had passed since he had taken her.

In truth, the first week was pure bliss for Christine. She had found freedom from the terrible demands he made upon her body! No longer would she be forced to bow to his sadistic pleasures, enduring such unspeakables for his own delight.

Toward the end of week two, however, Christine found herself a bit uncomfortable. She wondered what she had done to fall out of his favor. Was he displeased with her? Had she failed to fulfill him? Had he found another, more willing participant in his debauchery? Was something intrinsically wrong with her now, that he would shun her so?

In the third week she was a bundle of raw emotion. She wept when she tipped a glass over and it shattered. He had assured her that it was fine in a soft voice, and cleaned it promptly – but offered no more comfort than that. Without speaking Christine had tried to call attention to herself. She dressed in the clothing she believed to be his very favorites, or made it a point to cross his path when she was scarcely dressed at all.

Still the aloof disinterest reigned and now nearing the end of a month she was desperate. Though she was loathe to admit it aloud or even to her own mind, Christine needed his attention. His affection. Any scrap that he would toss to her! She _desired_ it!

Erik was perched in his favorite chair reading a novel when she entered the drawing room. She curled upon the setee with a book as well, though she was scarcely interested in it. She stared at him over the edge of it for a very long time, until she was sure he recognized her attentions. He did not respond.

"Erik?" She said softly, closing the book and all pretense of reading it.

"Yes, Christine?" He replied, sounding disinterested and tired.

"Are you angry?"

"No, child. Continue your reading." He said in a rather monotonous tone, never once lifting his gaze from his book. Christine could not have known that he was paying as little attention to the words as she was her own, nor could she have understood that this was all an elaborate lesson that she must learn. To her he seemed genuinely unaffected by her presence.

"Have I.. did I do something to make you unhappy, Erik?" Christine continued.

Erik waved a hand dismissively and shifted so that he would not have to look at her, instead able to focus more intently upon the book before him.

Christine felt rejected by the action and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She would not allow herself to retreat, however, and so she steeled herself to continue. She stood from her seat and approached his. She melted to her knees before him, the ornate rug shielding her knees from the hard stone beneath. In an odd paradigm of nervousness and eagerness, she lifted a tiny hand to rest against his clothed thigh.

"Erik.." she breathed his name, and it was not a query.

Erik released a heavy sigh, seeming more frustrated with her than anything. He lowered his book to the table beside him and reached to pat her hand. Having done so, he removed it.

"Is there something you need, Christine? I do have a lot to accomplish this afternoon."

Again Christine felt the sting of his words, and looked as though she had been struck. Erik maintained an expression of frustration.

"It's only that.. well. For some time you have seemed unhappy with me, and I…"

"Things are fine, Christine. Do not worry yourself over trivial matters. Now," he said as he stood, "I will be out for several hours." He began to walk away without as much as a glance down at her.

"Erik, please!" she cried out loudly, the sound filled with anguish and frustration of her own. It surprised Christine, and she flushed with embarrassment at the gesture – but remained undaunted. Erik simply lifted a brow and turned to face her.

"Really, girl, what has gotten into you?" He said coolly, a frown marring his features.

Christine felt desperation coiling within her chest, any words she could speak blocked by the lump that had formed in her throat. She felt like a caged animal, and her last chance at the food that would prevent her demise was about to walk away. She had to act.

She lowered small hands to the floor before her and crawled to him, covering the short distance between them quickly. Her cheeks burned with shame, but she did not falter. Instead she lifted her small hands to curl about his shoes. She peppered hot kisses there, her breath leaving condensation upon the shiny black surface. She did not glance up, but when he seemed unmoved by her display she allowed her tongue to dart out and trace errant shapes across the tops. Her pretty features nuzzled against his ankles, until his pants were brushed aside and she was bestowing all of her eager affections upon his flesh there.

Erik allowed this to continue for a moment, and then crouched down. He lifted her face away and cradled her chin in his grasp. He forced her to meet his gaze, though she was obviously humiliated at her own desperation.

"What is it you want from me, girl?" He demanded, his voice lower than before and slightly husky.

Christine opened her mouth to speak, promptly closed it, and lowered her gaze.

In response, Erik stood and began to walk away again.

"Wait! Please.. I want…you…" she managed, the sounds choked out.

Erik stood in place, and in the instant he glanced to his own feet she scampered to place herself there. He again crouched down that their faces were nearly touching. He curled his hand tightly within her silken locks, and a breathy moan escaped her.

"Do you understand how you feel, Christine?"

Christine shook her head, as a tear spilled along her cheek.

"You belong to me, precious," Erik continued, tracing his finger along the length of her throat. "Your mind does not fully understand this yet. I know what you dream about when you're alone in your room. Of your pretty boy returning again to sweep you away. Of all thoughts of escape. I know those thoughts, Christine.. but your spirit knows otherwise. Your body as well. Do you not see? You are mine, completely."

Christine quivered, so delighted at his simple touch against her throat that she could scarcely remain still where she kneeled. It had been far too long since she had felt his affections at all.

"Ponder it, my love. When _was_ the last time you considered those things? What has consumed your thoughts day? Last night? The weeks before? What is it you've been longing for? What do you need?"

Christine allowed her eyes to drift closed, as he pressed a feathery kiss to the hollow of her throat. A soft whimper escaped as his tongue darted out to taste of her flesh.

"Tell me," he hissed against her ear, before biting at the lobe lightly.

"You, Erik. I think only of you. I need you."

"What do you need, precious?" He continued, "You must say it, Christine. You must realize that it is complete."

"Take me, Erik. Please! I belong to you. I belong to you!"

Erik allowed himself a satisfied smile as he released her. Those words had been spoken so many times before by the girl before him, but never in a moment of such clarity. She was completely lucid. He had made no attempts to ensnare her in his spell or weave a façade over her weak mind. Weeks of neglect had created a change in her thinking, and now the thing she loathed was the very thing she _longed_ for.

He stood and turned again, this time treading instead toward his chambers. He knew that she would follow.

Another lesson learned.


	3. Bound by His Will

**Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews. I enjoy them a lot. This chapter is my compromise for those of you who wanted a little bit more softness from Erik. This is as good as it gets, so enjoy:) This may be the last chapter of Possessive because I have an idea for an entire phic that encompasses this type of relationship entirely. I've not completely decided yet. It would be AU entirely, a mix of Phantom and another book series I've read about a planet called Gor. Anyway, let me know what you guys think! Phic or continue these drabbles?**

**-M**

* * *

Christine yawned as she squirmed within the luxurious blankets. A smile danced upon rosy lips as she recalled where she was, and remembered that she had been permitted to sleep within the circle of his arms the night before. She attempted to stretch, only to find that her ankles were bound. While her brow furrowed in confusion, she opened her eyes to look about blearily. He was no where in site. Excitement churned within her belly, even as she shifted long and lithe legs to find that her ankles were, in fact, bound as well.

A soft mew escaped her lips. The light was dim within his room, the dark curtains that ensconced the bed only making it more difficult to see. She blinked several times in attempt to clear the haze, and called out softly.

"Erik?"

There was no reply. Nor would there be for an hour, and more. She squirmed and sighed, sang softly to herself and then attempted to decide what it was he intended for her. She imagined his rough touch upon her aching flesh, his biting kisses and plundering exploration. The thought caused her to shiver, a breathless purr escaping her parted lips. He wasn't even present, and still he set her aflame. She imagined that he would bruise her lips with the weight of his kiss, and pinch at the dusky peaks of her breasts until she cried out in pain and pleasure.

Christine had worked herself into a state of obvious arousal by the time he arrived. So much so that her eyes were closed, golden thighs rubbing together achingly as she released tiny moans.

"Ah ah.." came his deep voice, resonating through her very soul. The pleasurable state she had created slowly dissipated as she forced herself to look upwards at him. His voice alone called to her, and she longed to touch him. To bathe him with her affections and kisses until he pushed her away. To fall at his knees and grovel, if only to please him.

"Erik," she smiled. He chuckled lightly, fingers playing at the cool links encasing her ankle.

"Starting without me, my love?" He teased.

Christine blushed, but did not look away. She held his gaze brazenly. It had been months since she had found full submission to him, and shame in her actions had long since fallen away. She would be anything to him, anything he desired, and found no horror in that knowledge.

Erik released her from her bonds, and immediately she moved to pull him down to her. It did not matter that he was fully clothed and she the opposite. She _needed_ to feel him against her. The intoxication of his kiss was all that could soothe the flames that roared within her now.

Again Erik only laughed at her. He unwound her long, shapely legs from his waist and returned them to the bed.

"Listen to me, Christine.." he commanded, and with a bit of a pout upon her lips she stilled. He seemed pleased with her response, and that was the only thing that kept her in place. His fingertips were frigid as they stroked her inner thigh. Christine moaned, and with a sensual smile Erik averted his fingers from her burning core and instead traced the length of her leg, curling about at her knee until he was stroking her smooth calf muscle. Delicate ankle was caressed next, and finally the bridge of her foot to the tops of her toes. It nearly tickled, and Christine shuddered, fingers curling into the sheets.

"Erik," she said breathlessly.

"I have removed the metal, but your chains remain Christine." He said, as he positioned her leg where he desired that it should stay. "Do you understand?"

Christine nodded, touseled curls spilling across her cheeks with the gesture. Erik repeated the process with her other leg, leaving her thighs spread so widely she had no hope of pleasing herself even with the simple friction of her thighs. Once he had finished with this, she felt the indention of his weight upon the bed. He had settled himself betwixt her thighs, and now those cool fingertips traced the flat expanse of her abdomen and upwards over her ribcage. He traced her full breasts with circles, starting against her chest and circling upwards. Just when his touch would have brushed the aching pinnacles he diverted, stroking the smooth curve of her shoulders. He urged her arm upwards to the place where it had been bound. His lips hovered over the inside of her elbow, and then her palm. Though they were cool, the moisture of his kiss was warm and evoked another soft whimper.

"Stay," he reiterated, and repeated the process with the other arm until she was effectively bound – not with chains, but with his will. He left her then, moving to stand beside the bed instead. He gazed at her for some time, and Christine could feel the desire in his gaze as he devoured her. Almost like a caress that she could _feel_, his gaze enflamed her. Christine curled her toes, and pulled at the wood of the headboard. Her hips arched into the bed beneath, and then upwards to meet nothing but cool air.

The softness of his touch, his gentleness and delicacy were so different than what Christine was accustomed to. She was used to bending to his will, while he claimed her fiercely and sometimes violently. Now he was speaking in soft tones and with the most adoration in his touch.

It was complete _torture_.

"Erik, please.." she mewed, licking at full lips in an attempt to entice him. Erik smiled, even as he settled into a chair he had placed by the bedside.

"Please what, my precious?" he replied, his voice smooth and crisp. It was as though her plight had not affected him at all.

"I need you Erik..." she cried.

"I am here, my love. You know that I will never leave you."

Christine was frustrated with his intentional semantics.

"I need you to touch me, Erik. Take me. Beat me, if you must, only touch me..." Christine huffed truthfully, frustration mounting with desire within her tone.

Erik seemed pleased with something she had said, and he leaned forward within his seat. Elbows resting atop his knees, he allowed a single fingertip to idly trace the curvature of her hip bone – sheathed in the ivory silk of her flesh.

Christine groaned, and Erik chuckled lightly.

"My, aren't we eager..." Erik teased.

Christine sighed, allowing her eyes to drift closed.

"Do you want to please me, Christine?" Erik queried, allowing his circle to enlarge so that he was brushing the top of her thigh as well.

"You know that I do," came her breathy reply.

"Perhaps this pleases me. Perhaps it pleases me to see you in such agony. To see you writhing for much touch, in desire for me..."

Christine did not seem pleased at his admission, but instead she focused upon the sensation of his fingers as they ran along her hip and thigh. When she did not respond, his caress halted and he sat up once more.

"Oh, God, no! Please Erik. I am sorry. Yes, yes I want to please you. Taunt me if you must, but only let me please you."

Without a sound Erik leaned forward once more, and this time his fingers found play at her breast instead.

"Do you know what makes you more beautiful right now, Christine, than any woman on this earth?" he asked, his voice softer and more husky now.

Christine shook her head, a slight mmph the only vocal response she could manage.

"You are in exquisite agony, and yet you have not moved arm or leg since I commanded you so. You are _mine_. My word and will binds you with more strength than chains ever could."

Warmth washed over Christine, realizing that she had passed some invisible test she did not understand she was taking. The knowledge of bringing him true pleasure was the greatest swell of emotion she could experience, and the taste of it now wrenched a little sigh from within.

"You are _mine,_" he reiterated, even as he joined her on the bed. He was unclothed now, and the chill of his flesh was welcomed against the fire that raged within her own skin. With a murmur of kisses at her throat, he permitted her to move and she immediately enveloped him in her fire. They were as opposite at that moment as at any other. Fire and ice, light and darkness, weakness and strength, submission and domination. They were as complete at that moment as any two ever were, separate halves to one wonderful whole.

For hours Erik lavished attentions upon her. Soft, warm kisses and loving caresses. There was nothing harsh in their lovemaking. He was as gentle with her as though she were a virgin, constantly assuring her of his adoration as he brought her to the edge again and again. Later they lay within the bed, Christine curled into his side and stroking the dip of his clavicle sleepily.

"Christine?" He called to her, the very voice that commanded her.

"Mmm?" she replied, a smile dancing upon her lips.

"What have you learned?" he asked, tangling his fingers within her impossible curls.

Silence loomed for several moments, as his pet considered her answer carefully.

"To trust you. To please you in all things."

Erik smiled lightly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Those things are important, yes, but not the lesson I sought to teach you tonight."

Christine felt a wave of disappointment settle like a brick within her stomach, and her body tensed. Had she failed him? The thought was enough to make her tremble.

He stroked the length of her back, silently encouraging her to relax again.

"The lesson, my sweet Christine, was this..."

He tipped her chin upwards until her firey brown eyes met his own. She did not see his deformity, though it was clearly displayed. She did not see the too-pale tone of his skin, or the unhealthy slenderness he possessed. Instead she could only see the Master of her very spirit, and he was smiling down at her. With a gentle kiss pressed to her lips, he muttered softly against her ear.

"You are precious, unbelievable, wonderful...and.."

He nipped at the lobe of her ear, and continued.

"I love you."


End file.
